Springsteen's Thoughts on the Church and His Dad in Chapters 1-4 of "Born to Run"

The last few years Nena has typically read a book per week, with two to three or more hours daily turning the pages. The strokes, though, in the last two years, have taken their toll.  Her recognition of the written page is permanently or temporarily lost with typed words in English merely hieroglyphics to her now.

Since the idea of audio books didn't appeal, we decided to spend our morning coffee time reading together.

Bruce Springsteen's 2016 autobiography is our first joint effort.  Local literary aficionado Diego Lee Rot has ordered the audio version for listening at his work, so we have the makings of an informal book club.

Pensive Mr. Rot

Mr. Rot questions whether Bruce can keep up the astoundingly poetic style of the first four chapters, but I've peeked at other sections of the 528 pages and, it appears he does just that.

Bruce, on going to Catholic school:

Over the years as a St. Rose student I had felt enough of Catholicism's corporal and emotional strain.  On my eighth grade graduation day, I walked away from it all, finished, telling myself, "Never again."  I was free, free, free at last. . . and I believed it . . . for a while.  However, as I grew older, there were certain things about the way I thought, reacted, behaved.  I came to ruefully and bemusedly that once you're a Catholic, you're always a Catholic.  So I stopped kidding myself.  I don't participate in my religion but I know somewhere . . . deep inside. . . I'm still on the team.

On his alcoholic father:

I'd witnessed what I felt was surely the possessive face of Satan.  It was my poor old pop tearing up the house in an alcohol fueled rage in the dead of night, scaring the shit out of all of us.  I'd felt this darkness's final force come visit in the shape of my struggling dad. . . physical threat, emotional chaos and the power to not love.

On Jesus:

As funny as it sounds, I have a "personal" relationship with Jesus.  He remains one of my fathers, though as with my own father, I no longer believe in his godly power.  I believe deeply in his love, his ability to save. . . but not to damn. . . . enough of that.

I will stop my commentary there as my 4:00 AM typing has awakened my six year old grandson, staying overnight with us because of his cough. He notes that the Springsteen book cover looks like "real life."

"Grandpa, are you highlighting in the book and then typing those highlights in your article?"

Yes, Jack.  Guilty as charged.